Perdition
by Min Daae
Summary: Loki vs. Natasha, round two. In which there is no clear winner, and everyone involved is a little (more than a little) messed up.


_Author's Note: So...going through Porn Battle prompts, I had a staring contest with some of the Loki/Natasha ones, as a pairing I've wanted to write for ages to indulge a number of my personal kinks (but haven't found a way to make work). Started writing._

_Almost 6000 words later...I'm not sure I found a way to make it work. But hey. I daresay I had a fair amount of fun doing it._

_For the prompt "Loki/Natasha, blood, power, weapons, dark." I...apologize. Mostly sincerely. **Warnings for a little bit of knifeplay and some serious sadism/masochism and/or dominance/submission things that are not very safe or sane and definitely not endorsed by the author for use in real life. **  
_

* * *

His eyes slid sideways without turning his head, hands remaining loosely clasped between his knees, looking a little like he was about to start smiling from where he was sitting comfortably on _her _bed. Natasha didn't so much as twitch, keeping the muzzle of her gun pressed snugly to his temple. "I don't know if this'll kill you," she said coldly, "but I'm willing to empty a clip finding out."

"Lady Romanova," Loki murmured. "Charming, as ever."

She was tempted to shoot him without waiting, or giving him a chance to talk, but…something smelled funny about this, and that made her cautious. He had to know what would be her first instinct, and that he'd let her get that close…she kept her finger on the trigger, though. "Uh huh. So you just felt like dropping by?"

Those loosely clasped hands tightened on each other for just a fraction of a moment. Not as calm as he was trying to seem, then. "Perhaps I did. You are an interesting one, Romanova." Natasha narrowed her eyes, considering her approach. How best to play this.

"Bull," she said, flatly.

His gaze moved away from her without disagreeing. "It's interesting. You haven't called anyone. You still work alone, even as you are – ostensibly - a member of a team."

Natasha let her finger tighten infinitesimally on the trigger. "I'm curious," she said flatly. "But I'm also pretty curious what a bullet through the skull will do to you."

That slight hint of a smile slipped slightly closer to the thing itself. "As I said, charming as ever." His eyes moved back forward. "May I speak frankly?" He said after a moment.

"Please do." Her tone was acidic.

"I wish to make a request of you." His gaze shifted back to her, giving her that sideways look again. "I would ask that you act as my executioner."

That took her so thoroughly off guard that her surprise even overwhelmed the reflexive part of her that wanted to say _yeah, sure, _and put two rounds in his head. "What?"

Loki's expression went genuinely amused. "You thought I had escaped Asgard's watchful eye? Your confidence in me is…flattering. No, Lady Romanova, I am yet a prisoner." He held up his right hand, then, a plain iron band fastened around his wrist. "My sentence has been decided. Of the choices I was given I chose death, and it is a privilege of noble birth – beg pardon, _supposedly _noble birth – to choose the method. Thus…" His gesture was eloquent, and then his hands returned to rest between his knees. Natasha could feel herself staring, and then realized.

"Choices?"

"Exile to mortality or execution." Loki's laugh was sudden and sharp. "It seemed much the same thing to me."

_Why are you hesitating? _Natasha demanded of herself. Perhaps because he'd asked, and for that reason alone… "Why ask me?"

She could only see half of his smirk. "I thought it fitting. Poetic, if you will. And I thought you least likely of your comrades to insult me with pity."

Was it the truth? And if not, where was the lie, and for what reason? That tenuous calm might be of a man facing death. Or it might not. If she gave him what he asked for, would she be playing right into some new scheme…

"If you're a prisoner," she said slowly, "how can you be here alone?"

For the first time, she saw a flash of anger. "I am watched. But allowed some privacy, for this."

"And all I have on that is your word."

She'd seen him move before. Just the same, she'd forgotten how _fast _he was. His fingers dug into her wrists, forcing her grip open, deflecting her retaliatory kick with his hip and taking her strike to his face without blinking, all in a few seconds. "In answer," Loki said, "yes, I could kill you before they reached me. Notice that I have not."

Natasha twitched her right hand to draw his attention, and when his grip tightened she twisted neatly, rammed her shoulder into his sternum, and in the moment of imbalance threw him over her hip. She had a knife in hand before he hit the floor, heart thudding rapidly.

He didn't move to rise, though. Stayed on the floor, breathing in sharp exhalations it took her a bit to recognize as laughs. She hesitated, in spite of instincts urging her to move, to kill. "Go on, then," he said, suddenly, bright gaze falling into hers, eyes mocking. "Your move, Romanova. Why hesitate?

Why hesitate indeed? For Clint, for herself, for Earth…

She looked at his face.

"No," she said, and watched his eyes widen.

"_No?_" Loki sounded incredulous. "I offer you – _why?_"

"Because you asked," Natasha said. "And I don't want to give you anything you ask for. Even that." His lips peeled back from his teeth in a silent snarl. Her pulse was racing. "Unless…."

"Unless?" It wasn't quite a growl.

"Give me a reason," she said sweetly. _Got you now. _This dance, she knew. "Give me a reason to do you a favor."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "The fact of my death is not sufficient for you?"

"No. It's not." And there was something she was missing here, still. She could find it. That was what she did best. He sat up, slowly. She could read wariness in his posture, but he was considering it. She held perfectly still, waiting. Sometimes, Natasha thought it was this she lived for. These dangerous games. And she _was _playing with fire here. Or maybe a gas explosion.

Natasha caught decision in his eyes the moment before he moved, rolling fluidly to his feet and into motion. "A reason," he said, almost a purr, and kissed her.

She stabbed him.

Low, under the ribs and where she was fairly sure (though only fairly) she wouldn't catch anything vital. She felt him shudder, so he definitely felt it, but didn't back off immediately. His lips were cool and he didn't kiss how she would have expected. Slow and almost soft, like some kind of romantic. He wasn't bad. Was actually…yeah. Not bad.

He drew back as she shifted her grip to twist the knife, but only by one step, and barely that. She imagined she could feel the raw power radiating off Loki's skin. She stared at him, glanced down at the knife still in his side, and yanked it out.

Loki made a strange, low sound, and swayed. His pupils were dilated and his gaze looking down at her was profoundly…

_Oh. _

Natasha felt a wave of warmth low in her belly. The wound, she noticed, hadn't bled much and was already healing. Her brain went helpfully in several dangerous directions. Vicious, dark directions.

He was watching her. Waiting. A very faint glimmer of satisfaction touched slightly lust-darkened eyes. "How much do you hide from him?" he murmured. "From Barton? How much does he not know about what you hold back…"

"Nothing," Natasha said flatly. "And you aren't going to talk about him."

Loki's eyes glittered. She knew that look, fey, a little reckless. Someone looking death in the eye and laughing. "Or you'll…?" He glanced at her knife. "You'll have to do better than that."

Her eyes narrowed. "This is your idea of giving me a reason?"

His smile was like a slash in his face, all teeth. "There's a rage burning in the heart of you, spider. A rage I'm strong enough to take." Loki spread his hands. "Dance with me, Romanova. I am yours."

There wasn't room in work for hate, most of the time. Nor for anger. And here…

She set aside the knife, watching his expression. The barest flicker of disappointement lit his eyes for a moment before it was gone, but before he could speak Natasha smiled without warmth. "You didn't just come here to die, did you."

"Have you come to some insight you think to share?" Loki's voice was faintly scornful, artfully amused.

"'The horrors are a part of you,'" she said, relentlessly. "That's what you said to me, wasn't it? And you feel it now. And you think I can…what? Expurgate your sins?" Natasha laughed. "That's cute."

Loki's expression twitched not at all. "Is this acceptance or refusal, spider?"

"You didn't come here for me to kill you," she said. "You came here to be punished."

His eyes half lidded. "Then _punish _me." Loki's voice was sweet, light, bait or a goad meant to prod her toward anger. He'd seen her rage and thought that was all she was. She almost wanted to play along, just so she could savor the look on his face when he fell for her trap again.

"Oh," Natasha said, and watched the slight shift in his eyes as he heard the change in her voice, "I will. But not like that." She nodded toward the bloodied knife. "I'm not going to make it that easy."

To anyone else, his face might have seemed impassive. To her…she could see the emotions flickering just under the surface. Wariness. Anticipation. Fear. And lust.

_If Clint knew what you were thinking of doing…_

She banished him from her mind. Not now.

Loki arched his eyebrows, eventually. "Oh?" he said. "You have other ideas?" His voice managed to imply that he highly doubted they could be anything much. She looked forward to proving him wrong.

Natasha didn't let herself doubt that she would.

"Yeah," she said. "I have ideas. You're going to do what I say. Not because I threaten you, or because I promise anything. You going to do it because you want to. I'm not going to make you do anything. I'm not going to force you or draw even a little bit of blood that you don't ask for. And you're going to know that you could stop. I'm not going to let you pretend you have anything but a choice." She watched his eyes. Could see him tense.

Natasha let herself smile. "To start," she said, "_kneel._"

His eyes met hers. No longer so wild or careless. She could see the rage flare up, rage and pride and a curious flicker of something like shame. Then masked. A retreat behind a mask so perfectly opaque even she couldn't see through it, and his eyebrows rose. "One knee," he said, voice silky smooth, "or two?"

She just smiled. Oh, this was going to be fun. Breaking open that sleek protective coat of falsity, of pride. Not even a flicker slipped through, but just enough. Admiration. Anticipation.

He knelt. He made the motion graceful, folding to the floor, and the way he laid his hands on his thighs and tilted his head slightly back to bare his throat was so deliberate, so _calculated…_and yet still sent a quiver down her spine and pooled heat between her legs. Objectively, he was gorgeous. Almost pretty.

She didn't let that touch her.

"Is this sufficient?" he asked, voice soft and yet somehow still with that light, mocking edge. "Or shall I genuflect?"

"It's sufficient." Natasha took a step in. "Why do you want me to punish you?"

He smiled. It wasn't a nasty sort of expression, was almost playful. "Why, Agent Romanova. Because I've been _bad._"

She grabbed a handful of silky, long hair and raised her hand as though to strike. And stilled, watching his eyes flick to her hand and intensify. "Why," she asked, again.

"Perhaps I'm _desperate _for you to touch me." His eyes watched her hand, not her face. Like Natasha was that strike, like she was a weapon and nothing more.

It frustrated her. Prickled at some memory…

She dropped her hand and swung around so she was straddling his legs, looking directly down at him. "You want me to make you submit," she said. "I'm not going to. You want me to tell you what to do. I'm not going to."

Again, that faintest of flickers of expression, but no more. His hands moved whip quick, from resting on his thighs to running up the back of her legs, without pressure, just a light touch from her calves up to her thighs, where they paused. He held her gaze and Natasha looked down at him, impassive.

Then his eyes dropped with his head, his hands tightening on the back of her legs, and he pulled her forward so his nose was pressed at the join of her thighs and she suddenly resented the fabric of her pants that she couldn't feel anything but vague pressure through them. She held herself still, though. Held herself still and looked down and thought about a clear cage and vicious words cutting too close to the heart of her-

_Break him_, she thought.

She tightened her hand in his hair and pulled his head back. "Aren't you going to ask?"

Another slight flash, and then it was gone. "I would offer you a better use of my tongue than the last I gave you," he said, smooth again, seductive, like velvet. She resisted the urge to pull him back.

"Would you." She kept her voice flat, with just the slightest bit of effort.

A moment's pause, and no change in expression. "If you would allow it." His eyes lifted slowly and his tongue crept out and touched his lower lip, hands easing a little further up the backs of her thighs. Her muscles tightened under his hands.

"All right," she said, after a moment. "Impress me."

He ran his hands up and over her hips, thumbs tracing above the waistline of her pants. "I suppose I had better," he murmured, and then leaned in and began undoing the catch with his teeth.

She didn't wobble. Did _not. _Kept her hips still and her body language deliberately bored as he drew her zipper down, and then his tongue flicked out and just dampened her underwear. "Do this a lot?" she managed to say while still keeping her voice steady.

"Enough," Loki said, voice only slightly roughened, his hands pushing her pants off over her hips. The slide of his fingers over skin, just light enough, made her shiver, and she stepped back, swatted his hands away. She stripped off both pants and underwear, more comfortable with nakedness than that too intimate touch.

Natasha left her shirt on and stepped back in, like dancing a waltz. Loki left his hands down, this time, though his eyes were half closed. "I can smell you," he murmured. "What is it that arouses you? That I am – or was – your foe? That you have mastery, the _control _you were never given-"

She moved, swift and sudden, her leg hooked around his neck and positioned to cut off air. His eyes mocked even as his words choked off. _You can't do it, _was the challenge there. _Can't face me, can't kill me, can't make me submit-_ "You said you'd put your tongue to better use," Natasha said, and eased up the pressure, just a little. "Do it."

The tip of his tongue flickered against her inner thigh, traced a little higher, and then he turned his head and his tongue slipped between her folds, licked a deliciously slow line downwards. Her whole body seized up and went slack, her traitorous mind flashing back to Loki at full power and now here, on his knees with his nose buried in the curls of her pubic hair. Dangerous and yet…

Natasha's hips lifted, and Loki's tongue darted out and curled around the hard little nub of her clitoris.

Her fingers locked back in his hair and her hips rocked helplessly as the thought burned through her mind that perhaps she'd made the wrong call. Perhaps she couldn't handle this, perhaps there was a better way to play this game.

She made a low, snarling noise and didn't stop. _Put his tongue to better use, _Loki'd said, and he _was, _lips and teeth and tongue all working and it was like he knew before she did what she wanted, what she needed, hard presses of his tongue alternating with little flicks, sweet suction and slow upward presses of his tongue-

Natasha pulled back. Yanked back, really, tearing herself free and just managing not to stumble as she stood on both legs, her inner thighs slick with her own arousal. His face was messy too, nose and mouth shining wetly. The way he licked his lips was definitely deliberate. The way he swayed slightly, she thought, less so.

His eyes, she noticed with satisfaction, were almost black, and glazed.

"What do you want?" she asked. The sound Loki made was not quite a whine.

He collected himself. "You didn't finish," he said.

"No," she said. "I figured I'd just…" She let her right hand drift to her groin, sliding one finger between the lips of her labia. Watched him struggle.

"Let me." Not as long as she'd thought it would be. Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"Why should I?"

"You can bring yourself off any time." Loki's eyes were hooded. "How often can you claim that Loki Silvertongue pleasured you?" It wasn't anger in his eyes. Not this time. "I daresay you deserve that much, do you not? For besting me?"

That tongue. That mouth.

Natasha smiled at him. "I don't think so."

He looked at her. Gaze flickering between impressed and incredulous. Then angry. Not at her, she thought. No. Natasha was almost sure of that now. At himself. For wanting this. She could work with that.

"Please," he said, after a moment, and there was only the slightest edge of resentment, almost wholly polished away. She could almost be impressed herself.

"Please what?" Natasha asked, and watched his jaw tighten a fraction, just for a moment, a contrast with the fact that she could see the hard line of his erection inside his pants. His eyelids dropped to half closed. This, she thought, was more of a thrill than the physical. Far more.

"Please," he said, voice a little less silky, a little less sure. "Let me make you come. Let me lick and suck and tease you over the edge."

A shudder ran up her spine and she felt another surge of arousal dampen her further. She swallowed. _Play this carefully, Tasha. If you're not careful…_

"On your back," she said.

His eyes on her were hard for a moment, but she heard his breath catch even above her own breathing. Loki unfolded from kneeling and obeyed, stretched out on his back, his hands at his sides. She padded over and stood above him. His hands moved to her ankles and she kicked them aside. "Hands off," she said. "I'm driving."

His hands dropped away and she heard the shuddering sound he made with a little squirming feeling of delight. She lifted her foot and pressed it lightly down on his groin, kneaded her toes once. "Don't forget it," she added, as his hips arched up into her foot and he made a small, quickly stifled sound. A couple short, sharp breaths more and his eyes, barely open to slits, fixed on her face.

"I could hardly," he said, the silkiness gone altogether and replaced by a delicious sort of huskiness, "do any such thing." She pressed down a little harder with the balls of her feet and he gave a gratifying little twitch, his right hand clenching into a fist.

Natasha removed the pressure and watched his body jerk before stepping to put her feet on either side of his neck and crouching down. His head craned up and she took a handful of his hair and dragged his mouth up to meet her cunt.

His tongue darted out in a thrust, slipped inside her and fucked in and out once before retreating, teasing along sensitive skin, between folds of flesh as he nuzzled into her, as _Loki _buried his face between her legs and licked and sucked like he was desperate for it-

Natasha's hips rolled downwards, her legs spreading wider and her hand pulling Loki closer against her, using him almost heedless of the actions of his tongue, at least until he worked the tip of it under her clit and pressed up and she felt just the slightest brush of the flat of his teeth.

Her whole body seized and she didn't bother to strangle the sound of her orgasm overcoming her, muscles momentarily water and her mind exquisitely empty, Loki's tongue still teasing, still…

Her fingers went slack in his hair and his head thudded back to the floor. She half sat, half fell back, resting on her heels and his collarbones, and looked down at him. Face smeared with her arousal, his eyes almost completely closed, a faint touch of color in pale cheeks-

_Focus. You've got a target. You're playing this for a reason and it's not…_

He opened his eyes a sliver. "Satisfied?" he said, voice rich but slightly strained. She could feel the uneven quality of his breathing.

"What do you want?" she asked. A slight quiver ran through his body, stifled hurriedly.

"Is that relevant?"

"I want to know." she shifted her body back, bare ass on his sternum, and dropped a hand to trail her fingers over that long, pale throat. His head tipped back, minutely, and this time she didn't think it was intentional. His skin was cool, smooth. Flawless.

For a moment, she wished she had the knife. Wanted to press it in and see how deep she could cut before he stopped her.

"You know what I want," he said, after a moment's silence.

"Death. Or so you claim. But right now?" She pressed down with the palm of her hand, felt him swallow. "Right now, isn't there anything else…"

He made a sound that wasn't quite a groan. She could feel his heart thudding and watched the anger and lust swirl in his eyes, mesmerized. "Bitch," he said, after a moment, but it was weak, and more plea than insult.

She rubbed herself against his chest, smearing a mark over black leather. "What's that make you?" His body arched under her. She could feel his muscles flex, tense, relax, the uneven and sharp sound of his breathing. His teeth flashed at her.

"I'd rather you used the knife."

"I know," she said, and pushed herself to her feet, locking her knees. Her body still felt languid, loose, wet, but less urgent now. "Maybe if you're very good. What do you want?"

Natasha watched his face, his eyes: helpless need. Anger and desire twisted together in knots. He bared his teeth at her in something between a snarl and a grin that made her heartbeat pick up. His tone was coated in honey. "Use me," he said, almost purred, "for your pleasure. You won't hurt me. You couldn't. So _indulge _yourself."

_Indulge yourself. _The room smelled like sex and heat pooled at the base of her spine. _Hold your balance. Keep your focus._

"Strip," she said, taking another step back. "Let me see what you're offering." Natasha kept her voice as cool and even as she could manage, as if indifferent. Her heart was pounding, though, hard and irregular, answered by the feeling between her legs growing again. She was getting too much into this, too deep-

Loki rose fluidly and shed his unfamiliar coat with ease, then moved his hands to the more complicated buckles of less familiar clothing underneath and undid those with deft ease as well. She'd expected more shame, more embarrassment at this sort of display, but he didn't show a trace of modesty as he bared his chest and then moved his hands down to unlace his breeches, eyes on her. Provocative. A challenge.

She took a prowling step in toward him. His hands stilled and she caught the faint, fractional widening of his eyes, wondered what he saw. She closed the rest of the distance between them slowly, kept her motions slow and smooth, and closed the last with striking-snake quickness. The edge of the blade she'd fetched from where she'd set it aside brushed whisper soft against his wrists, not quite pressing in.

She heard him half inhale before he cut the sound off, and he moved his hands away, fingers spread wide. "I thought you weren't intending to use a blade," he said, voice carefully measured. She could hear the undercurrents in it, though.

"Plans change," she said, and switched the knife to her left, using her right to open the laces of his pants with a few perfunctory tugs until the hard flesh of his erection was held to his body by laces rather than fabric. Her gesture with the knife brought it perilously close to flesh. Loki paled slightly but didn't flinch, his eyes fixed on hers. "I'm curious. Did you let any of your brainwashed minions treat you like this?" Natasha deliberately did not think of Clint.

Loki jerked, looking for the first time slightly surprised through the glaze of arousal over his eyes. "—no."

She leaned in a little. Gave him an unpleasant smile as she tugged the last few laces out of the way so his cock was free, curving up toward his stomach, and his pants down further over his hips. "You never let any of them fuck you?" She made the words deliberate. Hard. Leaned in a little further when he twitched. "Would you let _me _fuck you?"

Loki sucked in a breath, and then moved, kissed her again. Her hand was trapped between them, the knife undoubtedly cutting in but he seemed beyond caring, and there was nothing romantic about it this time, just hunger and need and- she caught his lip and bit down, pushed, hard. He fell back onto her bed she'd almost forgotten was there and she moved her body at once, shifted her thigh and pressed until she could feel his cock trapped between his belly and her leg. He stilled, and she jerked away.

"You don't kiss me," she said, almost snarled. The smile he threw her was giddy, wild, touched with madness.

"Or you'll…" There was a gash above his hip where the knife was still pressing in. She pulled the blade back and dropped it aside, pressed her hand over the wound and leaned her weight into it. Loki stiffened and he made a strangled, hungry sound.

On an impulse, dark and filthy, she pulled her hand away and licked the smear of blood across her calm. It tasted like metal, copper, but with a faint tingle like electricity. She felt him harden further under her. Felt herself respond, a wave of wet warmth flooding down through her so she could feel it at the apex of her thighs.

She pulled her leg away and sat back, looking down at him spread out under her, looking half dazed even as his hips twitched, reflexively seeking the lost contact. She reached out almost at once and wrapped her hand around his shaft and jacked it down and up, the unlubricated drag of calluses on aroused flesh almost painful.

Of course, he responded to it. Natasha leaned down, lowered her voice.

"Is it common?" she asked. "Liking pain, the way you do? Or is it _shameful, _is it _weak _that you _want _to lie down like this…"

He shuddered and his hips jerked into her hand, seeking friction, but she just tightened her hand and he made an exquisitely pained noise, eyes rolling back. She kept her eyes on his face, watching the masks break away and beautiful expression flicker in rapid succession across his features. When he wasn't hiding it, what that face could reveal in subtle shifts was truly astonishing. She could see him fighting to hide it now, fighting for control and losing.

"Look at you," she murmured. "I hardly even had to try, did I? You came to me. You knelt to me. And now you're coming undone for me. I'm hardly even breaking a sweat."

Loki breathed harshly out a few times, fury blazing up in his eyes. She stroked upwards once, twisting her wrist, and he went rigid, mouth falling open and any words he'd meant to say stuttering into silence as he tried again to thrust into her hand. She let him, this time, let him rut forward once and then closed her hand again around the base of his cock. His eyes opened, green nearly black, and he forced the words out in a voice thick and almost clumsy. "And yet you're – giving me what I want. Who is benefiting here-" He broke off as she shifted her thumb around to press the nerve cluster under the head of his penis, rubbed it in a calculated circle. His back bent like a bow and his head dropped back. Responsive, she thought. Sensitive. She could do so much with that. Given time, she could…

_This is a game. Just a game._ "You're not in control," she said, lowly. "I am. And that's the way you want it. That's the way you need it, isn't it? You like to play like you're above it all but under that…it's like you said, isn't it? _You will always kneel._"

Loki shuddered again, mouth falling open. His breaths were coming in ragged, uneven gasps, she could almost feel his heartbeat throbbing in the flesh under her hand, and she _wanted. _

She dug her fingers into his narrow waist, lifted herself up, and slowly lowered herself onto his cock, holding his hips down as Loki tried to thrust up to meet her. Control. Control control control. She was the master here, the-

She held still a moment, just feeling…exquisitely aware. She rocked forward, almost unconsciously, and Loki made a shuddering, keening kind of sound. Almost without thinking, she began to move, riding him, angling herself so he rubbed against the sweet spot inside of her every time she bore down. Holding him down, in place, using him like she might a dildo except that every small desperate hungry noise, every time he fought her but not as hard as he could have, only made her wetter. His face was a rictus of thwarted need, mouth open as he gasped like a fish and Natasha fucked herself on him, squeezing her inner muscles until he almost thrashed under her and then changing to shallower thrusts that gave him almost nothing.

"Look at you," she forced out, summoning the words. Forcing herself to coherency through the haze of pleasure trying to overtake her. "Needy. _Desperate. _I hope they are watching. Your Asgard. So they all know-"

Loki's fingers groped for her thighs, dug in hard enough to bruise but she knew it was probably not even a part of his full strength. He pulled her forward slightly and despite her pressing down, thrust up in one sharp movement.

Natasha felt it all up her spine and her voice broke. _Again, _she thought, but managed not to say; as if he'd heard it anyway, Loki gave her another of those thrusts, and then another. His fingers moved toward her center and she spoke sharply, harshly, "No, don't – hands _off._" She clamped down, a faint "ah" squeezed out of her throat, and let her own fingers find her clit again.

She barely had to touch herself to go over the last little edge and orgasm a second time, her whole body shuddering, legs clamped on either side of Loki's hips, still riding his cock for a last few thrusts.

Natasha could feel him quivering underneath her. Close, unbearably close, and for a moment she was tempted to leave him like this, to draw back and pull away and…she rolled her hips, once more, a deliberate, calculated shove.

Loki let go with a massive full body shudder, a small cry escaping even as he clamped his lips closed and locked his jaw, eyes opening wide and wider. She felt the force of him coming through his whole body like a wave washing in and then dragging out.

A moment more and he was limp under her, breathing in quiet, ragged gasps. Undone, she thought. Helpless.

She felt much the same. Drained. Sated. Empty.

_Think. Focus. You had a plan…_

"It was a lie," she said, quietly. "About Asgard, wasn't it. You're not a prisoner. You came here to ask me to be your executioner, but that was your sentence for yourself."

He didn't answer. She could feel his breathing slow and even.

"Plans change," he said, after a long moment.

"And this was…"

"I wanted you." His voice was calm, even. She doubted it for that very reason. "I intended…to kill you after."

Natasha didn't tense. She didn't think she could have if she'd wanted to. "And now?"

Another long silence. Then, "Plans change."

"I have no affection for you," Natasha said. Her body still felt loose, languid. She could strike later. Not now. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he meant to kill her.

She didn't think so.

"I know." He didn't sound troubled. "And I expect you'll kill me someday, Lady Romanova. I wouldn't want any less. Not from you."

That shouldn't have been soothing. It was, oddly.

His hand slid between them and this time she let him. Let those slender, clever fingers go between her legs and stroke her open until his fingertips found what he was looking for and he began to rub her again, deliberate and sure. Her body almost ached but she didn't draw back or protest, just let him coax her through one final shuddering orgasm.

Natasha took some small satisfaction in the fact that under her, Loki felt as limp as she did. There was a knife she could probably reach in a drawer to her right. Easy to plant it in his chest now.

She didn't.

Maybe in ten minutes. Or twenty.

Eventually, though.

She'd see it done.


End file.
